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2017-09-09 - The Old Woman and the Demon
It's late night in Central Park. Quiet. In the area past the Zoo. In some of the small artificial caves that tourists like to play hide and seek in. Outside of them a series of bodies have been laid out. They've been torn limb from limb and left in piles. They haven't been noticed yet. Clint is out for a jog after his all-day target shoot at the Mansion. His arms ache and his sweatshirt is soaked with sweat but he keeps on jogging. "Just a little bit further, just a little bit further," he tells himself heading towards the zoo. "Then you can fall over and di-" he cuts himself short when he just about trips over a body. "What in the hell?" he asks but then he takes in the rest of the macabre scene. "Hell is right," he murmurs to himself reaching for his phone to call the cops. The spirit detective (Gibbs smack to ALL of the chars in Yu Yu Hakusho) is already on the scene. Constantine has a fresh cigarette as he approaches, a grisly massacre like this being the sort to bring out most anyone sensitive on an astral level. John is particularly so, and of the constitution to not flinch at the sight of it as he walks up likely only moments after Clint. The bodies are piled up. They've been torn limb from limb then and left in pieces. THe mere fact that such hasn't been noticed as of yet is definitely a sign over that something is strongly amiss. For Clint, there are signs of footprints up ahead - something big and twisted walking unnaturally, off scale. Very, very big footprints by something that didn't have human feet. Clint notices the tracks and their inhuman aspect doesn't fill him with a lot of joy. When he catches that first whiff of cigarette smoke he is glad of the excuse to turn away from the pile of corpses. "Hey it's you," Clint greets oh-so smoothly when he sees the guy from that bar the other night. He never did get his name, or maybe he did but the whiskey and the headshots wiped it out of his memory. Constantine flicks an ash as he replies evenly,"Yep, it's me. 'nuther night on the town." John squints at the scene as he stops at the edge of the pile, an eye studying the macabre fresh for some mystical rhyme to it all. He wouldn't miss the tracks for long though. It's possible that Clint's own gaze would draw his attention to it before he starts to stride in that direction for answers with one hand in a trench pocket. His arcane repertoire is never far off. The tracks are misshapen. They look like something more than a bird might do walking than something humanoid or that was mammalian. They're digitigrade judging from the pattern. They had approached from a side path, and then the strides got longer and more uneven heading away, with a lot of stomping over the immediate area. Composed over on the ground as well were dozens of smallish looking objects, small and hard like resin, near impossible to make out against it. "Some night," Clint says before he follows along after Constantine when the man spots the tracks amidst the carnage and follows them. "Hey, hold on. I know you can handle yourself in a fight but have you seen the size of those tracks?" he asks. "This might be a bit over your head." He reaches into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, letting his hand rest on the handle of his micro-crossbow. Not to use on Constantine, but to use on whatever it is that might come after them. Nightwing was in town on other business and heard the talk of corpses over the police band, he heads to investigate, since Clint and John have beaten him to it, he hangs back letting them be his stalking horse as he follow trying to be unnoticed for now. Constantine raises his blonde brows at Clint and offers a genial smile with a shrugging of his shoulders. He replies,"After you then, guv. Don't let me stop you going' first at the wee beastie." John is a firm believer in discretion being the better part of valor, and Clint does look better prepared for a fight. One does not put their black mage in the front row in a fight, after all. Those small little bits of hard crystal on the ground glow. Like hardened bits of rock. Dark red in color and.. Nightwing would probably be the first to recognize the smell. Hard, encrusted blood. Forged as if literally pressed to bits of charcoal by pressure and compressed. The.. Prints of feet? Claws? Would be easily pathed. Something that had come in this direction, stomped over the place, then raced off almost silently through the night. The footprints were clear in the ground, and yet the trees ahead were not disturbed as they should have been by something racing through them. Clint was expecting a fight over the whole taking part in the investigation thing. "Go after them?" he says as he reaches for his phone. "I am just going to call the cop-" he stops short as the crystals start to glow all around them. "Okay... this looks bad." He starts to back away from the crystals, bringing out his little hand crossbow to boot. Nightwing steps out of the shadows, "I don't think the police could handle this." He moves closer to the stones but stays an arms length from them, "Look to be bloodstones one of the heliotropes, artificially created." Constantine would step over to one of the glowing stones, kneeling to pick it up from the ground for a closer look. He raises his eyes to Richard when he speaks up then, and replies,"Aye. Someone's been playin' around, and somethin' got a bit out of hand methinks." As Constantine picks up one of the stones and checks it out, the stone glows. Dark red, far darker than any sort of natural heliotropic resin should be. Definitely artificial. Sizzling with just a little scent of brimstone, fouler than his normal cigarettes. Clint blinks when Nightwing gets the drop on him. He'd heard that about the Gotham crowd. Scary as hell to see first hand, especially when out on a thoroughly freaky evening. "Seen these before?" he asks about the stones. Watching as Constantine picks one up. His nose wrinkles as the smell hits him. "Playing with what?" he asks. Constantine does NOT smoke foul cigarettes, $#@* you very much. His eyes squint as he observes the aura of it, one might notice a particular shine to them in fact as he takes note of their nature. He'd utter after a few moments,"This looks the work of a left hand demonologist, big surprise. Is a demonic arcane construct. Likely spread to empower something. Or mayhaps to lure something, for an alternative theory." A loud, almost feral howl then shrieks through the air. THe trees up ahead do not shake. But there is brutally something amiss then given these shriek that pierces the air then that only the three men seem to have heard. THe air is still. The dark bloodstones on the ground flash. Nightwing shakes his head, "Bloodstones yes, ones created like these no." He looks over as John picks on up just in case he starts to speak in demonic tongues. He nods at John's theories, "Any idea what make those tracks?" He looks from the sky to the trees then back to the stones, "Whatever it is, it does not sound happy." "Neat. So bloodstone equals bad magic and I've got what a demonologist is. So, these stones are they made of actual blood because back at the scene there should have been buckets of the stuff but there was nada." The questions stop at the howl and a shiver runs down Clint's spine. "So, yeah, that sounds bad. So either of you guys have any idea what //that// was?" Constantine grips his stone in a fist, his eyes closing. John flicks the ash from his cigarette as his consciousness tugs at the silver string of aether that is the stone's magical cord tying it to the caster. In this fashion, he could indeed trace it to the caster that has activated them. After a few moments, John nods in the direction he has determined. He'd pronounce in a deliberate drawl,"It leads...thattaway." Through the darkness as the trio come along they see what can be described as a.. Hutch. A large one. Made out of straw, with a thatched roof. The hutch looks almost like an old cottage. It would be identical to that had it not raised up on a set of chicken legs. The windows hung open in it, a series of lanterns hanging outside of it bouncing with oil. The cottage itself was jolting, horribly. Shaking, quaking. To the side laid upon the ground was a twisted looking blanket. A blanket sewn out of.. Patches? That were inscribed with what looked like faces. Each small face that made of the blanket, hundreds of them, were shrieking, wailing, howling, sobbing, gobblin. Sitting over to thes ide then over perched on one of the nearby small trees was a woman over. A wretched looking old woman holding a long stick. A hag. A curve to the stick then and her wearing what could be described as a potato sack. A wretched, wretched looking old woman. The house shook again, an elbow smashing out through a window then of something curved, scaley, and then being yanked back on inside as the window slammed shut over a large, twisted elbow that was scaly, decidedly NOT human that was yanked back inside. Far too large and brutish. The old woman in the bag sack clucked. "You should not be here." Constantine grumps as he follows the duo along to this hutch, declaring,"What hell is it with squatters in this city. Ociffer, you are seriously slacking your duties. You oughta be cited, I swear." With that, John takes a drag on his cigarette before replying to the witch,"Do you know how often I been told that, lady? Constantine's me name. John Constantine. An' you shouldn't be here either. This place is a clear violation of ALL first world building codes." Mark it on your calendar folks Nightwing does something that Bats do not normally do, but once he sees the cottage and realizes what they are dealing with he swears, it is a good one two one that would never pass the comic code. He shakes his head, "Well I think we have found the cause, call it a day?" He says attempting to mask fear with humor. Clint can thank Nat for knowing what the hell it was they're facing. She told him the story one time. He'd laughed at the idea of the house with chicken legs then, he wasn't laughing now. "Sounds good to me," Clint says to Nightwing, despite holding his ground. "How about you, Smokey?" he asks Constantine. "Got any ideas?" The wicked witch of a woman grins, "I know who you are." She clucks, "The lines of you do not lead to here." She goes to take out a small bag of.. Bones? Which she puts in a cup, rolls them around, and then tosses them to the ground. "But have no fear." The small tossed bones on the ground went to glow. The bones were identifiable on a quick view. Small little fingers. Very small fingers. Very small toes. Like ones from a baby. "Things of the old world we be. You think yourself above them,d on't we see?" The witchy woman cackled. The hutch shook again. The shrieking inside it growing faster the as whatever WAS inside was trying hard to get OUT as the windows slammed harder on it, like latches reinforcing. On the ground, the blanket made out of hundreds of patches of faces let out more shrieks, rising in temple and anguish like.. Crying. The faces of hundreds if not thousands of young children howling in fear then as the house shook and rocked. Nightwing draws his escrima as he steps closer to Clint and John, letting the expert on things occult take the lead. He looks back at the stones, "I think those are the reason for this whole thing." He looks back to the witch, "Priority should be not letting her get them." Constantine nods his agreement to Nightwing, almost imperceptibly. His mind is turning as he smokes away, his motivation stick burning bright with his drags. He replies,"Aye, things Kon Sten Tyne kicked to the curb for the most part. Why can't you lot stick to the back hills an' woods? Why you gotta be traipsing about in the big city?" John twirls the stone between his fingers as he asks his questions, studying the magic happening about him all the while. Clint follows Nightwing's thinking. "Right, get the stones." This would be a good night for trick arrows but tonight he has only the regular kind and fun sized to boot. He quietly begins to spot the various stones around them figuring if they were going to get them first it was going to have to be done quick. "Just say the word." There's a tsk from Baba Yaga, "You play the fool. Shame you do not be one. Then you would have gone from whence you came." The stones that the others had plucked up or noticed would start to smoke, sizzling, burning. "I let you be the fool and walk away." Baba Yaga went to lightly rap her staff on the ground then as NIghtwing went to draw his escrima sticks. The blanket made of sewn up faces of children was shrieking, a wail of a symphony of distress, hate, and anguish as the house ona hutch rocked back and forth, shrieking with abandon as it struggled to contain whatever it had within. She went to take the staff out, and went to draw a circle in the ground and then threw out those small red bones to it on the ground. "But for me I would have your fate be bound.." Her moving to try and inscribe a pentagram of magical force around Constantine, if the spell worked literally putting him in a sealed energy sphere.. But worse, if it worked with no air inside, a soundless vacuum as if cast into the void.. Constantine is no fool, nor is he incompetent and unprepared. He pockets his stone and pulls out a pouch in one motion, stepping back to spill its contents in a flourishing motion where the witch was trying to work her magic. Iron dust and ground eggshells to neutralize her would be spellcraft, grounding it out in a deft motion. "Save yer shenanigans and rhyme, old woman. Your magic is archaic an' belongs in the old world." John then takes his cigarette hand and invokes a pentagram before himself with the smoke along with his mantra, eyes shimmering as he works to extend his personal aura outwards to help protect his compatriots,"Eheieh shadai al chai ha aretz..." Nightwing looks over to Clint and asks, "How are you with thrown items?" He offers the archer some pellets, "Black are simple smoke, yellow knockout gas, pretty sure neither will end this thing but they might make a good distraction if we need it." He says, "According to legends one has to be able to be an innocent or completely virtious to harm her with weapons so I think that excludes all of us." Clint takes the pellets, "Good enough to hit her from here," Clint answers as he sorts through them quickly, putting each in a different part of his palm. When Nightwing mentions the virtue part the crossbow in his other hand is put away. "Right, yeah, that's me out," he says before the magic duel begins in earnest and Clint just stares. This is wild, even for him. "Throw?" he asks Nightwing. The wicked witch smirks, "New age peddler." Seh tsks then, even as she whips her stick around then. She's scratching something into the circle she had drawn. A smaller oval, a long thin scratch, and then four small scratches along the longer small oval. The ground began to chant. Yes, it was.. Chanting. And the discarded blanket from whence there had been hundreds of stitched shrieking faces of children upon it faded out, each face sobbing as they vanished, leaving a normal blanket behind. Then from the shaking, chanting ground started to rise dozens.. Dozens and dozens of small corpses. Babies, children barely old enough to walk, skeletons the size of small animals staggering towards the trio even as Nightwing went to throw down gas and the area was blanketed with magic more wicked than virtuous. The chanting in tongues older than man had known how to talk continued to rise up. Dozens of corpses, skeletons, rising up and going to shamble towards the trio, flailing through the darkness trying to reach them, claw them, climb them.. Butcher them. Constantine answers her chanting with Enochian, the bridge language between Man, Angel, and the Deep Ones. He draws his evoking pentagram with his cigarette hand a second time as he chants a rite of protection, his astral aura blooming as he draws into his personal wellspring to hold the ancient being at bay. John's eyes sparkle as a plan comes into play. He begins drawing a circle of protection around the trio whilst chanting, the pale powder from his pouch trailing down to the ground as he walks the circle. He is always prepared for such encounters, so has just enough to accomplish this task after having previously countered her attack. Nightwing tosses the first pellet, he chooses smoke after all it seems she needs to draw the shapes to work her magic maybe the smoke will prevent that. the horrors that her magic brings up will be a new and unwelcome addition to his regular nightmares. Oh yes, this will be part of Clint's own nightmares as well. For the moment though, he drops into the zen like calm of shooting, or in this case throwing, arm goes back, pellet is thrown and he follows through. The sleep pellet sailing towards Baba Yaga herself. Not going to harm her but still it might break her concentration. The pellets that erupt around her have Baba Yaga shriek in irritation then. Even as her staff rattles. Whatever chanting Constantine is doing -definitely- seems to have her on edge now, even as her own gesticulations grow more pronounced and frantic then. She gestures then, her hand going up and over in front of the staff to try and counteract the chanting of Constantine, a duel of willpower as the two spellcasters tried to get off their magic before the other could and disrupt their incantations. Constantine has his circle of protection around the crew. His eyes narrow as he smiles wolfishly up at Baba Yaga. It's the sort of smile he's trademarked, the toothy grin that invokes the snarl of some wild animal on the prowl in the back of one's mind. His words are neither frantic nor pronounced but even and articulate as he keeps an even and firm tempo. The stilted tongue of the man known in some circles as Metatron flows with fluent ease from his the ordinarily cockneyed Brit. At some point however, different words begin to come forth. The scent of sulphur would waft in the air as the Brit shifts gears. Likely he knows he can't keep the ancient one's pace up as long as she can. His energies begin amassing in a different fashion as one word then erupts from his lips distinctly..."...NERGAL!" Nightwing looks over at Clint, "I have a sinking feeling something bad just happened." He reaches into his hidden pocket of tricks and pulls out sneezing powder and tosses that into the the fray at Ms. Yaga, after all hard to magic if you are sneezing right? Clint nods. "Yeah, definitely getting that feeling," he says and throws a smoke pellet Baba Yaga's way. "So, we what? Hold here and hope Smokey and Yaga don't kill us all with their Harry Potter stuff?" Nergal takes the form of as apparition breaks to existence and the heavens spit out loathing and hate and anguish of the form of an elderly looking, crazed man. He has a long beard, is somewhat slovenly in nature. his bright eyes bat about with a hissing sort of fervor. He speaks with an accent of Yorkshire, if one had to place it. "Why, Johnny Boy.. It's been so long." Baba Yaga shrieks then at Nergal. "My bone to pick is not with you. Only the fiends and freaks that will do." The house on chicken legs is rocking faster and faster. Faster and faster. Thatches on the roof are falling off as Baba Yaga was blinded by smoke, unable to do anything to stop it. The walls of the house came tumbling down. My unfair lady.. From the house smashed out a horrid, wretched thing. Scaly, misshapen. Features that were twisted. Arms and legs too large for it's form, one arm larger than the other. Wielding a forked club in a set of claws too small to hold such a thing. Eyes set to the side of it's head whirling about to face the witch. Letting out a SHRIEK. "CAGED! NEVER! BE!" Constantine stares up at Nergal, eyes flashing as much with evocation as mirth. The occultist is on a tear tonight, and gears are turning with infernal delight. Dropping his spent cigarette to the ground, he whips out his pack to spark another round. Constantine's gaze levels up at Nergal, and for the ears of Baba Yaga he pronounces his vex infernal,"Not long enough, by me measure. Let's cut to the chase, shall we? I think y'know why I called yer royal ass up 'ere. You must wanna know what's in it for you. See, It's like this..." John takes a long drag, from Nergal he never averts his gaze. When the moment passes, his words cut through the haze..."I know where your daughter be, and how to maybe set her free." There's a yelp from Baba Yaga, "Blessed Be, I care not for the fates of thee!" She goes to as the smoke surrounded her point her staff over at John. Even as Grendel let out a shriek then and went to snap his teeth upon her. A head the whence four brutes would have to carry along when it was carved snapped a beak pointed atop her, chomping down as she let out a shriek. And Nergal went to rise above John. "Well, Johnny boy! S'Just me and you." Nergal went to step to the side, the bearded man that he was in the body shape of adjusting his faded jacket. Outside, Grendel raged as John and Nergal were in their own little pocket of spacetime and existence. "And you will GIVE Me what I want. No deals boyo. What's the thing those Yanks say about the turkey? When they break a bone off then? Whoever gets the bigger end gets a prize?" Another Nergal appeared on the other side of John. "So I'm thinking.." One Nergal went on. "Yanking from this end." THe other yanked on John's opposite arm. "And this'un and pulling hard and getting my prize." Nightwing backs away from the building confrontation that is way out of his league, instead he scoops up some of the stones and says to Clint, "Now might be the right time to make sure these babies are secured." He adds, "And ot give Dr. Strange a call if you got him on speed dial." "Good plan," Clint says and throws the pellets towards Baba Yaga. As for the two Nergals and John. Clint pulls out his phone and dials fast. As it turned out he did have Strange's number, though who knew when that guy wa ever around. Clint gets a v-phone image of Stephen Strange wiht what appears to be Umar the Unrelenting and Satanna, Umar panting, "NEver.. Had one.. Outlast me.." Strange himself looks like he's grinning madder than Stark ever could. Constantine is apparently gripped from either side as Nergal somehow breaks his circle of protection. Constantine is the king of the poker face as he keeps his cigarette firmly between his lips, confident as he is lifted up and gazes to either Nergal before replying... "I think...the old hag is still here and is raisin' a bit of a ruckus, don't you? Wouldn't want anythin' I said to be misconstrued or whatnot." A third Nergal appears, this one over with a large tong which he goes to hold out as the other two go to hold John by the arms. "Johnny boy, you know what they say about thieving, lying tongues. I bet I can just go ahead and yank your's out and see how well you whine that way. And yank off your arms so you can't sign.." Because -every- form of communication with John is probably that way Nightwing is not sure exactly what Nergal's capabilities are but he sees he needs to do something. He takes out one of his Batarang and aims it at the spot right between the one of the copies of the demons eyes, against a person it would likely be a killshot against the demon well maybe it will buy John some time. Clint has the same idea as Nightwing. He draws the crossbow, hopes he's going to be alive to see the morning and then fires his bolt for the right hand demon's eye. Then, he rolls out of the way, expecting, literally God knows what in response. Constantine stares at the Nergal in front of him coldly, cigarette clenched tightly as he drags on it. He then blows a gout of smoke at the demon, retorting,"I ain't never lied to you, Nerg. I just played the game in my favor. That spicy gal, mother o' my whelps, be alive if I say she is. Either deal with that screechin' hag or do as thou wilt. Off me, an' I guarantee you'll be lucky if you ever hear o' Rosacarnis again." Nergal considers. "Well, here's the thing Johnny. I really don't need you alive to talk. Or maybe I can just cut you up and keep the pieces alive." His form glows with power then. As the arrow shoots towards him, one Nergal snaps a hand up to catch it. then gives Hawkeye his full attention. "Why -hello- there." His grin grew more and more morbid as Nergal went towards Clint. "Such delicious guilt held back by a sea of doubt.." Then he looks over to Nightwing and grins. "And you.. Oh you." He whispers. "Mom and dad say hi!" This has been a hard night for the psyche of one Mr. Grayson and that was the shove that pushed him over the edge, Bats don't kill that is a rule and one they all follow but Nightwing has broken that rule before, once with the Joker and only Batman's efforts revived the Clow, this time he is even more upset. With his escrima bared he lunges at the Nergal his body in fluid motion at he repeatedly strikes the demon. Though his anger does bring a bit of clarity, those watching the strikes would note a pattern he is focuses on joints the elbow, knee, shoulder if the demon has human form just maybe he works on human mechanics as well. the strikes of Nightwing are brutal. Powerful. Holding nothing back. Nergal mms, "That feels good!" THe bearded man shuffles. "Feels good to hate. To rage. To loathe. To let it all out. All that loathing. To know its there, underneath the surface. And you live in denial. You think you can lock it away. You think you're better than it. Here's the thing, kid. It's what DEFINES you. You're no better than anyone else. You're just as much dirt as the rest of them. Just you deny what you are. On the inside.. You're no better than the ones who kill, maim, rape, and cripple." His grin grows more twisted. Clint comes up from his roll. Damn of course Nergal caught his shot. They always do. He wished not for the first time he had his trick arrows on him. As for Nergal's barb, Clint just scoffs "Nice cold read there Kreskin. I know a good circus if you want to that show on the road," the retort only has a glimmer of his usual bravado behind it, he's way out of his depth here. "Nightwing, no!" he shouts as his friend charges in. Clint curses and flings a smoke bomb at his Nergal then and fires at Nightwing's, he aims for the eye again, hoping this shot makes it. "Hey Smokey," he calls to John. "If you've got some hocus pocus left this would be a good time!" Nightwing continues to vent his answer with his blows but that he realizes what he is doing and stops moving and hse shakes his head, 'You know sometimes I almost believe that, but end the end I know I am. I might have moments where I falter but I have done something most of those I fight could never do and I know by your nature you could never do, I forgave the man who killed my parents and guess what, I forgive you." He turns the demons own nature against it. While Nergal was holding him, something odd would transpire. Perhaps it was their attentions being diverted by the fruitless fighting, or perhaps something more, but Constantine isn't being held by Nergal anymore. All they have is his empty trench coat. The man who was there is lighting up a fresh cigarette, grinning as wolfishly as ever as he pronounces,"Nermal, I hate ta have t'remind you of the proscription of my soul ever settin' foot downstairs. Killin' yours truly wouldn't be more than a cheap thrill for ya, and you know it. So. Deal with the wicked bitch o' the east, an' hear me out, an' we go our separate ways. Mebbe do some more friendly business in the meantime that you actually profit from, eh?" Nergal screams in.. Pain? Irritation? But the truth in NIghtwing's words is anathema to the demon, at least for now then. He hisses and turns his attention to Constantine. "Boyo, you think -DEATH- is the end. It isn't. It's just the beginning. I have so many ways to stretch it out for so long." But he's smoking from the pain of Nightwing. Also while crunching on Baba Yaga (or having seemed to) Grendel slowly licks his lips and advances on Hawkeye. "Num yum?" "Wing, you okay?" Clint shouts to Nightwing, he's only heard half of what the man said over the raining blows but it seemed to have effect. As for Grendel, Clint raises his bow and takes aim at him, "Hey back off there ugly or you're going to lose another arm." Not exactly something he can deliver on but what the heck. Then just to accent the point he throws a sleep pellet at the beast's head. Nightwing nods to Clint, "Yeah I am." He turns to see the advancing Grendel, "Right now I really wish i rememebred how Beowulf did it but i think he just has a really big sword." He tosses a flash bang in the path of Grendel. Constantine pulls his deck of cards from his pants pocket, seeing the more mundane trouble advancing on his comrades. Pulling a Jack of Diamonds, he whispers over it,"Adonai ha aretz..." the card bursts with sticky flame. John then flicks the card with practiced prestidigitation that any gypsy would admire at the face of Grendel. Wherever it struck would burn as the flames are like napalm. They stick dangerously. Nightwing nods to Clint, "Yeah I am." He turns to see the advancing Grendel, "Right now I really wish i remembered how Beowulf did it but i think he just has a really big sword." He tosses a flash bang in the path of Grendel. Grendel lets out a hiss over at Hawkeye, but after a few moments the creature vanishes over into the darkness. There's' a twist and a flick of limbs as it went to head to maneuver along, not even disturbing the forest with its motions. The scream from Nergal might be music to some infernal ears. But as he vanished.. "Johnny boy.. I got another piece of you. WHen I've got all of you.. You'll be wishing a long time for death." Nightwing watches as the demon and Grendel both depart, "I wish I could say that I think we have seen the last of them." he says grimly, and he pats the pouch with the stones he collected, "I think I am going to have these looked at see if I can come up with some sort of countermeasure for when we meet them again."